


The Loser Close to Me

by Avlaske



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avlaske/pseuds/Avlaske
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint wanted to be an Avenger since forever. Now he'll be known as the annoying pick-pocketing loser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

"...and that is all I have for you today, folks! The Avengers have once again saved the city, and I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say thank you for all your hard work!"  
  
Clint shuts off the TV and sighs. Some days, he wished he had the superpowers to be part of a group like the Avengers. But he was just a nobody that lived in a hole in the wall, making enough for food through small thefts. Speaking of, it was lunch hour.  
  
He vaulted over the couch and made his way out and down the balcony to the main streets. People rarely noticed him in his ratty jeans and too big hoodie. He jerked the hood over his head and scanned the area. It was busy, as it usually is at this time, and people rarely noticed if they were bumped and had their wallets stolen. Sometimes even a bit of grocery.  
  
He'd nab 3 wallets in two men with suits and a woman bending over to pet her dog by the end of the half hour, and as he went to grab the fourth (always the backpocket, it's the easiest place to steal), a hand caught his wrist and flipped him down to the ground.  
  
He didn't have enough time to react before his wrists were caught and bent behind his back and there was a heavy weight on his back.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" The breath ghosts behind his neck and he shivers.  
  
Whoever this was, they were one handsome sounding guy. Clint cranks his neck up to look at the guy who caught him, but could only catch a glimpse of shaggy brown hair and brown eyes before he was headbutted.  
  
"Oww, watch it man. You're going to knock my brains out," Clint quips from the ground. "Don't you think you should take me out on a date first before jumping to third base? Because this is definitely third base material." He rotates his wrist to test the strength of the hold, only to feel it tighten even more, almost crushing his wrist. He grimaces. Of all the guys to catch him, he's got to get one that actually isn't weak.  
  
"I said, what do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Hey, look man, I wasn't trying to do nothing. I thought that man was going to tip over, so I went to help him straighten up, that's all."  
  
Before he can even blink, the guy fishes his hand into his hoodie's pockets and pulls out the three wallets he'd stolen previously. "And I'm sure these wallets belong to you."  
  
"Hey! Those are mine! And you can't just stick your hands into my pockets. That's like, some sort of privacy invasion! I can get you sued for that!"  
  
"Listen buddy, I know these ain't yours. You don't look like Harry, Frank, or a Sally to me, so why don't you just surrender yourself nicely to the police over there?" Except this guy wasn't stating it as a question, and there were definitely police officers heading this way. Not going to be caught, Clint buckles his hips and manages to loosen the guy's grip on his wrist. He completes it with a round kick and lands on his feet.  
  
He gives the surprised man a wink, and damn was he a looker. Strong jawline and sharp brown eyes, down to his muscular biceps and quads. The fact that he had a metal arm made him look even more appealing.  
  
Wait. Metal arm?  
  
Holy shit.  
  
"You're Bucky from the Avengers!"  
  
Aw shit, this wasn't how he'd wanted to meet the Avengers, if ever at all. He'd already gone and ruined that. He'd always had rotten luck.  
  
"Yeah, and who are you?"  
  
Clint gives a look around and sees he's just about surrounded, so he gives the Avenger a cheeky smile. "I'm seeing you later!" and promptly dips out of the scene and into an alleyway. He hears the footsteps following him, but he's well-versed in the neighbourhood and manages to escape alone five minutes later.  
  
When he finally gets home, he drops down on the couch and groans. He cannot believe he dropped the cheesiest line ever. Who even says shit like that. 'I'm seeing you later'. Fuck, they'll think he's some weirdo stalker or something, which he isn't. He's only ever watched every time they've aired since the beginning. That's totally normal.  



	2. Chapter 2

Clint ends up having canned tuna, which he heated over the stove, for lunch and canned beans for dinner. If it wasn’t for Barnes he would have ordered a large pepperoni pizza. Heck, he could have ordered four large pizzas. Just thinking of it had him salivating. He’ll have to give pickpocketing a rest for the night. Who knows if that guy was still lurking out on the streets. He settled into his couch for the night.

Over the next few days, he managed to steal a couple of hundreds in cash, which will cover his rent. Despite his ‘bachelor’ housing with nothing but a TV, a couch, a bathroom and a tiny kitchenette, the rent was crazy experience. He couldn’t afford to go to any other place, however. His criminal background didn’t allow him a lot of pleasantries. He’s fortunate they even allowed him to rent here, as shitty as the place was.

This morning, a week after the faithful meeting with Barnes, he decides to treat himself to a hotdog. He’s been working real hard after all. People’s money won’t steal themselves.

Clint adorns his sweats and hoody as usual and leaves his housing the way he always does, through the balcony. As he walks down his usual path, he spots a glint of mental from the corner of his eyes. He turns his head and smirks.

“And who do we have here?” he mutters to himself. He knows it’s a bad idea but enters the café anyways.

He looks around and sees Barnes sitting alone by himself, stoically glaring at his Starkphone, a cup of steaming coffee just sitting lonely on the table. He can’t have that now, can he? Clint decides to be a good mate and slides in the seat in front of Barnes. He quickly nabs the coffee and takes a sip before Barnes could react.

“Blech,” Clint groans, “who drinks their coffee black? What’s wrong with some milk and sugar? Give it a little sweetness, buddy, you look like you could use it. Or well, maybe a hundred of those.”

He then grins across at Barnes, who has been tensed since Clint’s initial seating. The silence stretches and he squirms.

“Cat got your tongue or something? I thought you were all ‘Rawr, look at me. Now look at my metal arm that can squish you an-‘”

“Do you always talk this much?”

Clint pretends to take a second to ponder on it. “Mmm, nah. I usually talk way more.” He fiddles with the coffee cup and decides to give it another sip. Maybe it was something that you kept drinking till it got good.

Nope. No. It definitely tasted worse the second time around.

He chokes on his second sip and decides it’s better to return it to its owner. “Here you go, all poison tested for you. Seriously, no wonder your soul is like black. Ever think about adding more sugar? Unless you’re sugar conscious, but who can live without sugar? Not me, nope. I love my sugar. Like cake, and cookies, and ooooh, pie. I love me some pie. I also lo-”

“I like sugar fine,” Barnes interrupts. He gives Clint a look that might question Client’s sanity, but Clint doubts it. Barnes squints his eyes. “Aren’t you the thief from last week?”

Clint nervously chuckles and leans back on his chair, ready to run. “Me? A thief? Nah, man. Do I look like someone who steals?” There’s silence and some more intense staring. “You’re probably thinking of somebody else. And huh, would you look at the time, it’s that time again where I have to leave. Like, right now. I’ll be seeing you later!”

He abruptly gets up from his chair and ready to march when his chair is pulled in and he slams forward, cheek down on the table. “Ow,” he moans. He knew this was a bad idea. He’s the king of bad ideas.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he looks up from where he’s resting above the table and finds Barnes looming over him, a dangerous looking smirk on his face. Wow, he should smirk more often. He looked obscenely hot. And sexy. And all the bad things he should not be thinking about right now.

“Uhhh-” Thankfully he’s saved by the waitress. Clint loves his good luck streak.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. Is there something wrong? You’re causing quite a ruckus.” She gives them both a disapproving look, one hand moving to tuck her grey hair behind her ear. “If you are done here, please leave our shop.”

Clint snatches the opportunity to escape. He pushed himself off the table and gets to his feet. “She’s right! We shouldn’t be fighting. We’ll be out of your hair, miss.” He gives her a charming smile, which she returns slowly, and he bolts out of the café.

Three minutes later, he looks over his shoulder and sees no one. He allows himself a sigh of relief. He really should stop playing with the devil, but it was just so hard when he was so handsome.

He takes a detour and decides to grab a large pizza to take home. By the time he’s home, it’s already late afternoon. He’s settled comfortably on his couch, TV running on some random comedy show, slice in hand midway to his mouth, when he tenses. There’s someone in his territory.

The hair on the back of his neck rises. He can feel someone watching him from behind, where the balcony was located. That was his only entryway. His doorway had four large bolt locks to keep out intruders. The balcony required a bit more skill to reach, so he was never bothered by others.

He slowly turns and groans out loud. Barnes was casually leaning against his wall, looking as cool as a cucumber. Jackass.

“So this is where you live?” Inquiring sounds are made.

“Really? You followed me all the way home? Seriously? Isn’t this a bit stalkerish?” To hell with it, Clint decides. He takes a bite out of his pizza and turns his attention back to his TV. He ignores the puttering sounds in the background as Barnes looks around his place. There wasn’t much to be stolen besides his TV anyways. And maybe the couch, although these days it hardly resembled a couch anymore. He can’t complain too much since it came free with the place.

Eventually Barnes comes to a still next to his couch, staring at him. Clint resolutely decides to ignore him, but gives up ten minutes later when Barnes doesn’t leave. Or move, really. He sighs and moves over on his couch.

“Fine, you can sit here.” Which he does. Then the bastard helped himself to Clint’s pizza, which he so did not give permission for him to do. He opens his mouth to say something, but ends up sighing in defeat. “And eat my pizza, I guess.”

They both eat in silence, the TV filling the void in the apartment. Clint does a mental dance when he manages to snatch the last slice of pizza. Once finished, he leaned back and gave Barnes a curious look. “Sooooo…why aren’t you arresting me?”

Barnes gives him a look. “Do you want me to?”

“Uhhh, no? But like, why are you here then? Sitting on my couch. Eating my pizza. Don’t you have things to do? Like, avenging things or whatever it is you guys do during your free time?”

Barnes gives him a look that more or less suggested he was being a moron.

“Oookay, don’t tell me then. See if I care.”

They go back to watching TV. Eventually he closes his eyes in tiredness and when he blinks them open again, Barnes is gone. He ponders going to the balcony to check but decides not to. Barnes knew where he lived. If he was going to get him arrested, there wasn’t much Clint could do about it. So he waits.

Rather than get arrested, as he had initially worried, Barnes started inviting himself over to his place. To his pizza. To his anything food he has, actually, in his mini fridge. At least he always brought a pack of beer over, so Clint can’t really get too mad about it.

He questioned Barnes a couple of times over the next several weeks about his continued presence, but never got a reply. Eventually, he just stopped questioning Barnes and accepted his presence in his home. His tiny, shitty home. Which is probably the size of his bathroom at the Avengers tower.

Clint shakes his head as he takes another sip of his beer. He looks at Bucky (he eventually stopped calling him Barnes some odd weeks ago) over the rim of his can and can’t help but shoot him a confusing look. Bucky meets his glance with a quirked eyebrow.

“So, I still don’t get why you’re here,” he questions, and huffs when Bucky rolls his eyes at him.

“Again?”

“Uh yeah, again. I mean, look at this place! It’s a shitty place,” he glares at Bucky when he nods his head in agreement, “you were not supposed to agree with me. Anyway, it’s a shitty place in a shitty neighbourhood. Man, it’s probably nothing compared to your suite back at the Tower. You probably have some big ass bathroom with a big tub with several big buttons, an-”

“You’re babbling again” Barnes interrupts, a slight tilt on the edge of his lips that Clint recognizes as a smile.

“Well, basically this is a shitty place. And you’re here. Why?” He gets a shrug as an answer and groans in annoyance.

“There!” Clint points out with his finger. “That thing you did. It’s the same thing you always do. Why? Whyyyyyy?” He gives Bucky a pointed look. “You know I won’t stop bugging you until you tell me. We both know I can talk for hours. Don’t even test me. Did I ever tell you the time I-”

“I like it here.”

Clint just stares at him, then gestures towards the TV, currently playing a football game at its near maximum volume. Not to mention Clint’s loud voice ragging on the team when it was losing and on bad plays less than thirty minutes ago.

“I like it here,” Bucky repeats solemnly a second time. Clint stares at him some more than huffs.

“Alright, I give! You do what you want.”

Clint gets another kind-of-smile and sighs internally. The things he does to get a smile out of this man.

 

**Author's Note:**

> And that is the end of the first chapter. It's a little short, but there it is! The first of my multi-chapter stories.


End file.
